


Push Me Pull You

by Azkas19



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aranea Knows What She Likes, Bonding Over Recipe, Canon Divergence, F/M, Ignis Can't Quite Figure Her Out, Opposites Attract, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azkas19/pseuds/Azkas19
Summary: She’s a cynic, while he was pragmatic.In other words: it wasn’t Coctura who discovered the secret ingredient for the Tenebraen dessert...but Aranea.





	

****AN: My attempt at rewriting the narrative of Ignis’s effort to rediscover that Tenebraen dessert in ‘Brotherhood’. And also a tentative exploration of a romance between him and Aranea.****

* * *

 

  He’d discovered her during one of his bouts in the spice market.

  Their eyes had met over the bundles of wheat and pepper. Nothing terribly romantic about that. There had been a brief downpour earlier on, and he could see the droplets of rain highlighted on her face and neck from the unflattering fluorescent lights of the stall. She looked so much better without that ridiculous helmet of hers.

  “I can’t believe you went through all that trouble just for a dessert. Do all Insomnian majordomo do that, or is it just you?”

  Ignis sedately stirred his coffee, clearly in the manner of a man determined to take his time. Even after sundown Lestallum still baked - the air thick and greasy from the hawker stalls. He reckoned that the smell will follow him all the way back to the hotel. He always needed a second shower everytime he got back from the marketplace.

  His companion, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind. If anything else, she was soaking in the atmosphere...leaning back in her chair as she stretched her arms up. Perhaps she grew up in places such as these. He was still trying to guess where she came from. Her accent was too common to pin down, yet her ashen hair may suggest of more exotic locales. But then again, hair colour and accents could change overnight.

  He’d studied her over the rim of his cup, as he sipped his drink. Her casualness was well-feigned. He’d seen how fast she was, how _lethal_ she was in the battlefield. And yet here, sitting together at a sidewalk cafe and chitchatting over things as mundane as the weather, she did not make him want to reach for his daggers...not once.

  Perhaps during his solo wanderings of these streets he’d somehow fallen into a timeslip - in a place where he and Aranea were completely normal people, having a drink after a particularly long day at work and complain about each other’s bosses.

  But her armour was a stark reminder that this was no timeslip. And he knew with an explicit measure of certainty that the two of them would never be ordinary, even if they tried to - her especially so.

  “It is a matter of some importance to Noctis, therefore it is important to me too.”

  “Yeah, but you've been at it for three years. _Three. Years._ That’s long enough to get a diploma in culinary arts. Why can’t you just call the good people of Tenebrae and ask?”

  He snickered. “Surely _you_ can’t be that naive. _You,_ who serve Niflheim. Why, you being here alone would warrant suspicion. Here to collect reconnaissance reports for your boss?”

  His tone was measured, yet the sharp gaze he’d levered at her would make a lesser man look away. But she boldly met his eyes, a small smile belying her face, as if there was a secret of his that she’d discovered.

  “Despotic and power-hungry are their colours. It's not exactly mine,” she said blithely. “And I don’t think they’d be interested in hearing about the royal flunky who’s obsessed in finding a secret Tenebraen dessert.” She chuckled. “Huh, with all the stuff they’ve made you do at the palace, I’ll bet you don’t even have time for girls. Or guys. No judgement there.”

  Someone was singing karaoke very badly up at the second floor. Ignis thought, with a deep and terrible pang, of the karaoke bars in Insomnia, nestled within the labyrinthine nooks and back alleys only Gladio was capable of finding. If there’s anyone who could sniff out unique and obscure things, it’s the royal bodyguard himself. Speaking of which: the man’s probably at the local cantina picking up girls right now.

  “Hey, you wanna mess around?”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” he said, wondering where this was coming from all of a sudden.

  “You heard me. Just putting it out there because...well, reasons. You took a girl out for drinks, so I thought: why not switch gears for a bit?”

  His mind was already on analyze mode: calculating risks, gains, strategic maneuvers - all the while very much aware of how...interchangeable her moral compass was. He wondered if her romantic allegiances were just as fickle...or perhaps they mattered none to her.

  “Do you proposition every man you meet?”

  She shrugged. “Only the ones that I like. And I don’t like a lot of guys.”

  “I’d imagined that this sort of arrangement would involve dinner at least.”

  “And flowers, and romantic strolls by the quay,” she laughed. “You’re so square.”

  “I...tend to get that a lot.”

  “But it’s a good thing. I like that.”

  “You do?”

  “I can certainly eat, although I’d usually start with dessert first. I bet you’ll never guess what my favourite food is.”

  His interest piqued. “Is that a challenge?”

  She downed her cup, setting it back onto the saucer with a clatter, and then wiped her mouth with the back of a hand - further reinforcing his belief that she was raised in a household of barbarians.

  She leaned towards him. “Took you almost four years to figure out a stupid cream puff or whatever. Wonder if it’ll take you that long to figure me out.”

  With that, she got up and left. He watched as she was swallowed up by the evening crowd.

* * *

 

  “What do you suppose a woman like Aranea would like? Food-wise, I mean.”

  Gladiolus frowned in the semi-darkness. “You’re askin’ that _here?_ Of all places?”

  Ignis gave a dismissive glance at their temporary domicile. “Yes, well...I hardly think that infiltrating military bases are cloak-and-dagger stuff anymore...considering that _some_ of us prefer to go in guns blazing.”

  “Element of surprise,” said Gladiolus, steadying himself when the equipment truck jolted over a pothole. They’d managed to hitchhike in one when they found out where it was headed. “Works everytime. Same applies to women. They love a good surprise.”

  A rather skeptical voice piped in, and it was Prompto. “Wait...so are you and Aranea like, _dating?”_

  “Far from it, no. Well, not yet, at any rate. I don’t know how to articulate what we really are.”

  “Why put a label on it?” Gladiolus asked, ignoring Prompto’s agonized groan. It’s no secret that Prompto crushes on every single attractive female they come across - and it’s also no secret that none of those feelings were reciprocated. “You like her. She likes you. Just get on with it.”

  “Desserts.” That was Noctis. “Girls are always complaining about their thighs and butt, but they still love sweets all the same.”

  “Uhuh, and how would _you_ know what girls complain about?” said Gladiolus snidely.

  “Iris. She’s forever worrying about getting a muffin top - whatever _that_ is.”

  “She’s fishing for compliments, dumbass. She wants you to say she’s not fat.”

  “Well? She’s not. So what’s the problem? Don’t even know why they make such a big deal out of it.”

  “Not Aranea, though,” Ignis automatically said. He’d reckoned that in the midst of running her own mercenary outfit and working for a terrible boss, she wouldn’t have time to worry about the size of her butt - not that she had _anything_ to worry about, as far as he could see. But then again, what women think was still an area of complete mystery to him.

  Perhaps she _did_ stand in front of the bathroom mirror, agonizingly nitpicking her body and regretting that last helping of bonbons. But then again: he’s using Iris as template, and he was sure that Aranea operated on an entirely different level.

  “Steak,” Gladiolus suddenly said. “Nothing like serving a woman steak made of some animal you kill yourself. It speaks of manly pride.”

  “Yes, well...considering that her workplace is already a cesspool of testosterone, I highly doubt she needs a further helping of one,” said Ignis.

  “Just be yourself,” said Noctis, and immediately reconsidered this. “Well - a less fussy and serious version of yourself.”

  “What he really means is: quit bein’ boring,” Gladiolus interjected.

  “Find out what she likes. What _do_ we know about her?” Prompto sighed. “Besides the fact that she’s hot, smexy and dangerous?”

  “Not much, I daresay,” said Ignis.

  “Worse comes to worse, just wing it. Worse _she_ could do is say no,” said Gladiolus. “But then again, going in half-cocked ain’t exactly your thing.”

  “Hahah, it’s full cock or nothing,” said Noctis, chuckling at his own joke.

  “Better not blow your load before the big finish. That’d just be embarrassing,” said Prompto.

  Ignis glared at their collective laughter. “Oh, very funny, children.”

* * *

 

  A fight broke at the cantina. Apparently it was over a woman. Prompto was excited at the prospect of experiencing his first bar room brawl, although Gladiolus was terribly concerned about the possible security risk.

  Fortunately, the crisis was dealt with - all thanks to the deft skills of the bartender with the convenient help of a baseball bat hidden beneath the counter. Soon enough, Gladiolus was teaching Prompto the finer intricacies of snooker, while Noctis busied himself with the pinball machine.

  Desperate to escape the fug of cigarette smoke, stale alcohol and body odour, Ignis exited via a side door, taking a deep breath the moment fresh air hit him. Several patrons were lounging outside as well - they too were glad to get away from the indoor wall of noise and were comfortably chatting quietly amongst themselves.  

  “Hello.”

  He turned. It was Aranea.

  She was leaning against the wall, sipping beer all by herself.

  “Seems like we’re making it a habit,” he said. “Meeting in Lestallum.”

  “Must be fate,” she said, smiling mockingly.

  “Here on a job?”

  “I’m off the clock. Got this place I rented out nearby. Way cheaper than the hotel. Walls’re thin, but the shower’s clean and the owner knows me. That’s all that matters.”

  He nodded. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Oh.” She glanced dismissively at her arm, where a rivulet of blood was trailing its way to her elbow. “Nothing a quick fix can’t do. But I must say I’m much better off than the other guy.”

  “That fight. It was you?”

  “I’m a magnet for trouble, aren’t I?” she said with a comical grimace. “Seems to some guys that ‘no’ equals ‘yes’, so I had to - ah - _reeducate_ them. Wasn’t banking on getting hurt in the process, though.” She took another sip of beer, wincing at the pain caused by the movement. “Bartender’s nice enough to let me finish my drink...although I think I’m banned from his establishment forever, what with me being an agent of the Dark Side and all that. You really shouldn't be hanging out with me. I’m a bad influence.”

  “No.” He held out his hand. “We really need to have that wound looked after. Shall we?”

  The Regalia had its own supply of medkit. He was rooting about in the trunk while Aranea peered through the windows.

  “Oooh, real roomy at the back,” she commented.

  He made no protest when she opened the door and slid onto the backseat. She breathed in the scent of the leather upholstery, running a hand over the surface while making appreciative noises. “So this once belonged to Noctis’s dad?”

  He emerged from the back, medkit in hand. “Yes,” he said.

  “Wow. So he used to sit... _here,_ where I am right now?”

  “Yes.” He mentally steeled himself against any incoming jibes. She may insult him all she wants, but he will not stand for any slight towards the memory of the late king.

  “I heard about what really happened to him. I’m...very sorry.”

  He raised his eyes to meet hers. There were true remorse in her expression.

  “Thank you. It means a lot...to hear that,” he said.

  A momentary pause, as they both got lost in their own thoughts. And then-

  “So you ever sneak someone in here to make out?”

  “P-pardon me?”

  “C’mon! It’d be a real shame if you don’t try it at least once. Oh, but-” her playful tone shifted almost at once to a more sombre one, “You’re patching me up. So no fooling around for now.”

  “Sometimes,” he sighed as he entered the car to sit next to her, “I don’t even know if you’re being serious.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I’m serious all the time. Just like you.”

  The wound was, thankfully, a minor one. It didn’t require stitches, as far as he could tell. As he worked on swabbing her with antiseptic, she regaled him with the tale of how she got injured.

  “So you guys were at the bar for the cheap booze?” she said. It was half an hour later and she was stretched out on the hood of the car, leaning back to look at the stars. He’d declined her invitation to join her, opting instead to lean his hip against the side, close enough to feel her body heat. “Hah, nothing like beer, sex and parties to mark the rite of passage towards adulthood. If you’re looking for a _really_ good time, go to _Madame Carlotta._ It’s by this alleyway near the marketplace. You can’t miss it. Ask for Desdemona. They didn’t call her the Golden Tongue for nothing.”

  “Speaking from personal experience, are we?”

  “Hah, yeah. Guys at the garrison tried her out. They gave her their seal of approval.”

  “I’d rather not pay for a woman’s affection.”

  She shot him a mixed look of amazement and disbelief. “Who’re you kidding? Of _course_ you pay for a woman’s affection. The flowers, dinner and chocolate? All so that she could invite you up for imaginary coffee afterwards? C’mon, you can’t possibly be that naive.”

  “Well, yes...if you put it in that context, certainly. But you are missing the finer points of courtship, the intricacies of wooing a woman. If she is worth having, then she is well worth the chase.”

  “And once the chase is over? What happens then?”

  “Then I’ll keep reminding her...again and again of my ardour.”

  “Wow, aren’t you a bona fide bleeding heart romantic?” she said sardonically. “I’m thinking your life at the palace has made you soft. And stupid.”

  Ignis chafed at her remark. She was being flippant, while he was serious about expressing his affections.

  “Well, if you-” he began, but she cut him off.

  “I’m not saying I don’t like it. Relax,” she said, a hint of a genuine smile on her face.

  He didn’t realize that he’d tensed up. He crossed his arms, eyes looking at the sparse crowd dotting the parking lot. “You value ignorance and naivete?”

  “I value honesty. And reasonable idealism.”

  “Funny. I often see myself as pragmatic.”

  “I like that too.”

  “Is there anything that you don’t like?”

  “Hmm…”

  He looked at her, staring thoughtfully at the sprawling vista lying beyond the observatory deck. To the northeast they could just make out the Disc, curling darkly against the night sky.

  “I know what I _do_ like,” she said eventually. Leaning in closer until her breath ghosted his cheek, she let out a small laugh.

  And then licked his ear.

* * *

 

  He’d been curled up in the tent, body racked with painful spasms. The poison was unlike anything they’d ever seen before, and none of the antivenom in their arsenal had worked so far.

  In between lucid fever dreams, he could see Prompto clamber in to sit beside him, his usually cheerful face now terribly pinched with worry. The boy placed a wet towel onto his forehead with hopes of cooling down his raging temperature. Ignis weakly shook his head at the water canteen proffered to him. Anything that entered his lips at this point would undoubtedly come back out a moment later.

  “You gotta get in some fluids,” Prompto sighed. “Gladio’s gone to the nearest town with Noct. They’ll get help. You just...hang in there, okay?”

  He could only manage a feeble nod before a fresh onslaught of pain overtook him. These waves were becoming more frequent, and in his already weakened state, he didn’t know how much longer he could withstand them.

  He had another hallucination, where Dino wanted to open his own Totomostro arena and insisted on hiring them to catch monsters so that Noct could afford a better fishing line. Ignis was hellbent on chasing a zigzagging cactuar king when the ground shook and he heard the familiar and dreadful whirr of a magitek battleship. _It must be another dream,_ he thought, for if it wasn’t, then he’d most definitely be dead in the next moment.

  A crunch of footsteps on gravel, and someone roughly pushed aside the tent flap, letting in a bright shaft of light. Somebody swore under their breath, and soon enough the person was by his side.

  It was Aranea.

  Her fingers were cool against his forehead, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the rough barks of command she was giving to someone.

  Ignis tried his hardest to work his lips, but his parched throat could barely croak a sound. In his delirious state of mind, he wasn’t sure whether this was a dream or not.

  She leaned over and across him, seemingly reaching for something - and for one brief and glorious moment, he was afforded with a full view of her bosom in his face. If this was truly his last dying dream, then he’ll pass on a very happy man.

  She sat back down, a black medkit in hand. She unzipped the cover, and started busying herself preparing the antivenom shot.

  He felt her roughly pulling the blanket off him, and then stripping him of his clothes.

  “I don't normally put out before the first date,” he mumbled.

  Her urgent movements stalled. She stared at him for a moment, as if she couldn’t decide what to do next.

  “Hmph,” she huffed. “You’re making a joke, so that tells me you’re gonna be just fine.”

  Ignis wanted to smile, but grimaced instead when the pain started rolling in. The spasms were getting closer apart, and the white-hot lava of agony in his veins told him that it won’t be long before he’d meet his dear mother again.

  He gasped out one final prayer, a plea to the gods before he blacked out. Aranea’s face was the last he saw, and that was one wish he was glad that came true.

  He came to again - possibly hours, or days later - he wasn’t sure. She was still there, lying next to him and fast asleep. She’d stripped off her armour, leaving only a black undersuit. Someone had thoughtfully covered her with a blanket.

  Through a crack in the tent flap, he could tell it was already evening. He could hear the others shuffling outside, their voices conversing lowly around the campfire. For the briefest of moments he wondered who cooked dinner - and then cast the thought away. Let the children fend for themselves for a bit longer.

  He watched her slumbering form, at the rise and fall of her shoulders, and how in rest her mouth shaped a solemn line. What sights she must’ve seen...what experiences she must’ve gone through, to have formed her outlook of the world.

  Her breathing faltered, and she stirred, immediately waking up with an urgency to check on him. She hesitated, however, when she saw him looking at her.

  “How’re you feeling?” she rasped, sitting up and reaching over to touch his forehead.

  “Still weak, but I am much better,” he said. “Thanks to you.”

  “Thank goodness. You scared the hell out of me, burning up and spasming like that. I had to get Wedge to give you a suppository. So yeah - for a moment there we all saw you with your butt sticking out.”

  If that last comment was supposed to get a rise out of him, he didn’t take it. He bowed, with as much courtly aplomb as a half-naked man in a sweat-stained blanket could muster. “Once again I find myself further in your debt. I seem to be making a habit out of this.”

  “Get outta here,” she scoffed. “We’re not keeping score or anything. His Majesty was so worried he called me. Luckily, I was in the area. And _luckily,_ you lived. You be extra careful from now on, alright? The boy band’s lookin’ far less attractive without you around.”

  “Well then, I shall strive to live and keep you interested for a bit longer.”

  She gave him a sideways look, a wry smile on her face - the first he had seen since their last meeting.

  “Well, well...hitting me with your best come-on lines already. You sure don’t waste any time.”

  “Why should I be? Time with you is always inexplicably precious.”

  She suspiciously eyed the empty antivenom syringe inside the medkit. “Did I get the dosage right?” she muttered. “Must’ve caused some weird side-effects.”

  He took her hand, banking on the hope that she wouldn’t lop his off before hearing what he had to say. “Allow me to take you to dinner.”  

  She laughed, extracting her hand. “I can take myself to dinner, thank you very much. Why don’t you get yourself cleaned up first before asking me, huh?”

  She laughed again, although not unkindly, and got up to exit the tent. Presently Gladiolus lumbered in, followed by Prompto and Noctis, and they excitedly chattered over each other, glad of the fact that Ignis was alive and fine.

  She left in the midst of it all, a flurry of wind and maelstrom, followed by the distant roar of an airship marking her departure. Ignis felt a terrible pang, knowing that she had gone without saying goodbye. He’d rationalized that perhaps she was called away on an urgent mission, yet that still didn’t lessen the sting of abandonment one bit.

  Until Noctis handed him a package the next day, stuck with a handwritten note: _Found something that might help with that stupid dessert of yours ;) - Aranea-_

He unwrapped the package, and found a generous cluster of Ulwaat berries. She’d even included a recipe. He smiled, rereading the note and running his thumb over the emoji.

  At that moment, he felt the scales in his heart beginning to shift.

* * *

 

  Noctis was very surprised - and pleased - that he’d finally got it right.

  “I don’t know how you did it,” he said between mouthfuls. “But this is it…right here. How’d you manage to find the recipe?”

  “Oh, I may have received some form of assistance from someone.”

  Noctis paused, spoon still poised over the cake. “That wouldn’t have anything to do with Aranea dropping by that time, would it?”

  “Ah, she had been very instrumental in discovering the secret ingredient.”

  “Huh, a busy woman like her taking the time to help you out,” Noctis mused. He leaned back in his chair, regarding Ignis rather thoughtfully. The man gave away no reaction, still standing to attention and staring at the space above Noctis’s head.

  “Y’know, I’m thinking of making a stop at Lestallum this weekend,” Noctis eventually said. “Why don’t you find out what her plans are and then arrange for a way to thank her properly? I’m sure she’d appreciate that. Oh, and while you’re at it, invite her to hang out with us.”

  Ignis bowed. “Very well. I shall make the necessary arrangements, Noct.”

  The young prince took a sip out of his tea, looking at Ignis rather slyly over his cup. “Make it worth her while. And that’s a royal order.”

* * *

 

  Ignis found _Madame Carlotta_ easily enough, politely sidestepping the beautiful ladies waiting outside who lick their painted lips and run their nimble fingers down the lapels of his jacket as they invited him to come inside.

  He reached the end of the alley, and for a moment looked up at the building before taking the stairs all the way up to the third floor. He found the right door, taking a moment to compose himself before ringing the bell.

  The door opened, revealing Aranea. He never bothered bringing flowers, because he knew she’d never go for that sort of thing.

  “I have no idea what you like,” he stated baldly. “But I do wish to find out in due course. For now I’d just like to express my gratitude for your help.”

  For a moment she seemed to be pondering over this. “Okay,” she eventually said, and then slammed the door shut.

  He stared, unsure of what to do next. This certainly wasn’t part of the plan.

  But the door opened again and she, laughing delightedly, said: “Would you like to come in?”

  He looked at her sideways, unsure of what trickery she was playing at. “Sometimes I _really_ don’t know when you’re being serious.”

  As he brushed past her, she grabbed his elbow and whispered into his ear: “I _am_ serious, and I’m going to _show_ you what I like.”

* * *

 

  Aranea had a tattoo of a bird above her inner left ankle.

  He’d discovered that, along with many other fascinating aspects of her body. He watched her, sleeping naked beneath the sheets. The glaring neon lights, spilling in from the billboard right across the street, highlighted the planes of her body in garish shades of pink and green.

  He touched her hair, now wonderfully mussed up. Not even the ruckus from the room next door managed to rouse her. She was probably already used to the noise.

  His phone had a message - a brief video recording of Prompto, Noctis and Gladio, stating that they’re having _way_ more fun without him bossing them around. It was followed by a personal text from Noctis: _Take all the time you need._ He’d emphasized it with three thumb ups and a smiling emoji.

  Somebody had started singing on the streets below. Probably one of those busker groups, trying to gain an audience near _Madame Carlotta._

  Aranea finally stirred, raising herself up onto her elbows and staring out the window for a moment before plopping back down. Then, as if remembering she wasn’t alone, her arm stretched out, questing the space next to her and came upon the very solid form of him, propped up against the headboard and smiling down at her.

  “Oh,” she mumbled. “Thought you’d gone off to do the walk of shame already.”

  “No, I’m still here. For better or for worse.”

  “Aw, sheesh. We’re at that stage already? We’ve only been at it for a couple of hours.”

  “Four hours and twenty minutes. Not counting the time you collapsed from sheer exhaustion.”

  “I wasn’t exhausted. Was just...closing my eyes for a moment to savour the afterglow.”

  “Of course, if you say so,” he said, voice brimming with amusement. “By the way, Prince Noctis has cordially extended an invitation for you to join him tomorrow for brunch. I do hope you’ll say yes.”

  “How can I say no? He’s cute and he’s a prince. Girls don’t get this opportunity very often. Will his stalwart flunky be present as well?”

  “His stalwart flunky will be present at all times to ensure that the prince behaves himself.”

  “What if _I_ misbehaved?”

  He thought it over, before leaning towards her. “Then you-” he kissed her throat, “-shall be taken aside-” then dipped down lower to her chest, making her grunt appreciatively, “-where you will be given-” his hands trawled beneath the sheets to skitter over her belly before they settled on her hips. He jerked her closer towards him. “ A swift and utterly stern reprimand.”

  “Oooh, scary,” she teased.

  He chuckled. “Me, frighten you? I don’t think I could ever do that.”

  “C’mon...you with your permanent resting bitch face? I bet folks are too intimidated just to talk to you.”

  He looked mock offended. “I can be affable when the need arises.”

  He tried to reach out for her again, but this time she shrank away. He watched as she rose up to sitting position, her figure a stark contrast against the window. She gathered the sheets around her, skin forming goosebumps despite the humid weather. He didn’t have to see her face to sense the sudden shift of mood.

  “What is it?”

  She said nothing.

  “Don't feel like you have to hold back on my account, Aranea. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

  “This feels weird to me.”

  “Weird? How?”

  “I’m a total spaz at relationships.”

  He said nothing. While this revelation wasn't earth-shattering, he still needed to know what else she had to say.

  “You have a clear and well-defined roadmap on how one should be. But we just blew past first base and did a complete home run. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “Not the slightest, no.”

  She seemed taken aback by his answer. “If you're looking to define this, then it’s not going to work. At least for me.”

  “So we don’t label it,” he said, secretly glad that Gladiolus had finally given him some input of real use. “It’s not complicated.”

  “Really?” she said, body sagging with relief. “For a second there I was afraid that you’re already planning to introduce me to your mother.”

  “The thought has never crossed my mind. However, if she was still alive, I’m sure she would like you very much.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Sorry, I-”

  “Worry about that no more. Shall we continue where we left off?”

  “So…” she said tentatively. “One more for the road?”

  He glanced at the glowing display of the bedside clock. “We have until 11am tomorrow. Why just stop at one?”

* * *

 

   _10 years later…_

Ignis was prepared to die the moment he entered Insomnia.

  Which was precisely why, when facing what he believed to be their final stand at the Citadel grounds, he was greatly surprised to hear Prompto reporting that Aranea had arrived with her squadron, thus turning the tide of what would otherwise be a fruitless battle.

  What was _even_ more surprising, however, was the intensity of her anger afterwards.

  When the last daemon fell, she stalked the battlefield looking for him. She hauled him out of the rubble, quickly checking for signs of life. Finding one, she proceeded to rouse him into consciousness.

  “Hey, hey...wake up.”

  He stirred, then groaned.

  “You okay? Nothing broken?”

  “N-no...I...I don’t think so.” He winced as he tried to sit up.

  “Good.”

  The flat of her hand struck his cheek so hard, that his glasses flew off and smashed against a boulder.

  “Ow! What the bloody hell-?”

  “That’s for leaving me behind to go on your stupid _kamikaze_ mission!!” She punctuated her point by punching his arm. “What the hell were you even thinking? Aren’t you forgetting that you have people you can rely on for help? Is it because of some dumb machismo pride that you decided to abandon your sense of reason as well? You stupid, stupid, selfish _asshole!”_

  More hits rained in, forcing him grab her wrists and restrain her. That tactic didn’t last long, however, for then she proceeded to kick his shins with her potentially lethal high heels.

  “Uh-oh,” said Gladiolus, watching them from afar. “POG alert.”

  Prompto was mystified. “What’s a POG?”

  “Pissed-Off Girlfriend.”

  Ignis tried to calm her down, despite her struggles. When that didn’t work, he kissed her squarely in the mouth. She responded - rather fiercely - kissing him back until he was almost knocked off his feet. Then she proceeded to stomp on his shin again, although it was a half-hearted attempt. She pushed him away, stalking off while dashing angry tears from her cheek.

  “O-kay...so that’s confusing,” said Prompto.

  Gladiolus grunted. “That’s love. If he’s too stupid to recognize it, then he’s truly blind.”

  Prompto plopped onto the asphalt with a sigh. “Think Noct did alright up there?”

  “No daemon in sight. So he musta done something right.”

  “Yeah. Be nice to finally see the sunrise again.”

  “You and me both, kid. You and me both.”

  Prompto tried to smile, but felt wetness on his face instead. He brought a hand up to inspect it, and realized that he was crying.

  Gladiolus stood silent while the younger man wept. No words were necessary, no actions were needed. They all mourn for what they’d lost, and most of all, they were mourning for the best friend they will never see again.

  Some distance away, Ignis found Aranea. He spoke softly to her, touching her as much as he could. She passed an unsavoury comment about his Kingsglaive uniform, making him laugh. And then they held each other as they waited.

  Waited for the sun to come up again.

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I love the game, I’m not happy with the ending. While some presumed that the bros died, I don’t get why Noct went on this mission all Rambo-like and not bring an army to help him. It’s almost as if he’d forgotten he’s made friends throughout his journey. No Cor Leonis, nor Aranea in sight. My headcanon is that the bros would survive to help rebuild the city again afterwards.


End file.
